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Superion Journal Entry 1
From the Exile Journals of Lord Prince Superion IV Entry 12 - The Cave of the Black Godess "Treachery and Lawless Darkness" That's all I've encountered since leaving home, and likely all I will encounter. After spending some wretched bathless days hiking through ball leach infested swamps in pursuit of the treacherous cock-sucker known as Benwick, we arrived at the village of the lizard folk. There we were directed to the ominous sounding "Cave of the Black Godess". It was not long on our journey there that it became obvious that the black goddess probably referred to Lolth herself (Erathis spite her name), as the fields nearby were covered with flowers known as "Lolth's Blossom's" Our elf bastard cleric figured out some useful healing properties of this plant, and in my weariness I was greatful to recieve them, though the idea of using anything with the name "Lolth" in the title sickens me more than a little. As we came nearer to the place we had been seeking, the landscape began to change in strange ways. Heat to coolness. Swamp to rocky plains. Overcast to shimmering yet blurry brightness. The halfing who likes to sing too much perked up and told us we must be reaching some border with the Fey Wilde. I shudder. Could there be a more lawless, un-tameable place? As we crest a hill, we send Moxhular up ahead to scout. He came back terrified, unable to tell us anything, but his eyes said it all. Danger! We overhear voices discussing a deal of some kind and are able to scout ahead to see none other than a medium sized black dragon in conversation with fey goblins. The only question that naturally arises from such a conversation is which party is going to be fucked over more. They discuss the terms of an agreement about "bringing them to you" and "then I depart for Benwick and the keep", and then the dragon departs on the wing. Benwick, in league with Black Dragons! I should not be surprised, but the hair stands on the back of my neck. The glory from killing a black dragon would be a song for the taverns, even if not fully grown. Barely able to contain my bloodlust, we approached the goblins for parley. After some back and forth and obvious evasiveness, we strike a "deal" with the creatures to rob the black dragon matron of her eggs, which they have promised not to do in exchange for transport via fey wild goblin tunnels to restwell keep. They mutter on about "what the black hand digs for" and "the power of the scar" and some other useless cryptic nonsense. What vile creatures. The deal is more than a little sketchy, and I have numerous reservations, but none whatsoever about slaying a black dragon! As we "negotiate" they offer us some "black dragon bait" which they have claimed to have "specially seasoned with 11 herbs and spices". This bait turns out to be none other than our former companion, the sneaky halfing who is a good shot with a crossbow. She was apparently ensnared by them in their tunnels trying to escape the dungeons of "The Duke" (or something) After cleaning off her seasoning, we welcome her back to our adventuring band, and off we set to slay! We enter the cave. My blood lust overwhelms me at the site of the black beauty within. Her scales gleam with an acidic sheen as she stares down at us; "Benwick said you would come: FOOLS!" She swoops down on us and belches out a foul miasma of acidic fog. Quickly we fan out, knowing that staying clumped together when fighting a dragon would mean certain death and failure. Thunder cracks! Axes gleam! The twang of the crossbow! Screeches of draconic agony! What a symphony! I cleave her many times myself, and keep her away from my companions while battering her about the cave. At first the fight is going so one sided, I am afraid we would not have much of a story to tell. Foolish thoughts indeed! Once the dragon regains her composure, she begins to lash out with wing and tail, bite and breath; every wound we inflict sending gouts of acidic blood over one and all. Screams and black curses uttered, we rally and finish the creature, but not before a few of our number succumb to wounds. Such wounds I have never seen before, for even after the battle more of us drop, but fortune is with us and all are stabilized and their injuries treated. We claim our prizes, for not only did the cave contain the eggs of this "Goddess" but also treasure from the Ramthane tomb which Benwick stole from us. Treachery repaid fool! A silver diadem fit for a king, a many faceted bronze torque, and a mountain of coins are ours! Also two magical items, a phylactery and a amulet. Hopefully these will be useful for the battle ahead. After the battle, in solid agreement that the fey goblins must not be trusted, and that we could use the eggs to throw a wrench in Benwick's plan to use the mate of the slain dragon in the siege of Restwell. we concoct a plan to give them one of the two eggs up front and one after safe transport. A fair deal if ever there was one! Stubborn and spiteful creatures they are, they refuse our fair offer. Clearly, they never had any intention of honoring and sort of deal. I grit my teeth, rage climbing up my half acid melted face. "TREACHERY AND LAWLESS DARKNESS", I mutter through gritted teeth. I will suffer no more of this insolence! I cleave the speakers head in twain and quickly wheel on the next. The cowardly creatures retreat through their fey portal and it vanishes in a whirl of mist. I say a prayer to Erathis for the lawful citizens of restwell. We will find another way to save them.